


Nightmare

by Tybir



Category: Warcraft (2016)
Genre: FEL - Freeform, M/M, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Sweat, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 08:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8048950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tybir/pseuds/Tybir
Summary: Khadgar dreams of the burning fel. Platonic.





	Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mia826](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mia826/gifts).



> For Ren, who is helping me to write better <3   
> This was practice for writing shorter sentences.

Green. Fel. An acidic slime, oozing through the forest. Run. Flee! The fel is airborne now, a noxious gas. It snakes towards you. Flee! Flee, screaming through the forest. A mad flight, tree branches snapping over skin. Blood, red, from the cuts made by tree bark. Red, pure, proof of life. Proof of humanity.

Tripping, falling, hard dirt under grazed hands. Green tendrils seep over, sliding into cuts. Muddying the red, turning it brown. Turning it black. Turning it green. Green blood pulses through a tightening heart. It struggles to beat. It contracts sharply, is it strangling itself? It won’t beat, only burn. It burns and it chokes and it feels like it’s dying. Nausea, sharp and overwhelming. He’s struggling, choking, choking on the fel.

Khadgar gasped. His lungs burned as he struggled to breathe. Disoriented, he reached out and grabbed the first thing he could find. A warm hand. A soft voice, a familiar smell. Lothar. They were in a camp. In a forest, but not so dark, not so cruel. A night terror, then. Had he been screaming? He felt so wet. Drenched in sticky, pungent sweat. The guards stood watch from afar, backs turned. He was alone with Lothar. It was some consolation, at least.

He felt sick. Can you throw up fel? He retched. Not fel, just last night’s supper. It didn’t burn the way fel did. It didn’t eat away at his insides. It didn’t purge away all that was him, all that once was, all that would be. He coughed and gasped for air. Lothar was leaning him over, stroking his hair from his tired eyes. Lothar was whispering, but he couldn’t make out the words. Hot tears streaked down his cheeks. When had he started crying? While he slept? While he screamed? While Lothar rubbed circles on his back as though he were a child? His son? Lothar’s son? Was he a replacement? His head spiralled in confusing thoughts.

Cool water touched his lips. He knew better than to drink greedily, even in his hazy state. He wanted to mumble, but nothing resembling words would form. He flopped sideways like a ragdoll. Lothar caught him, strong arms wrapping around him. His back was on the sleeping roll now. It was so wet, he was so wet. Covered in sweat. Not fel, just sweat. Not fel.

Something soft ran across his face. A wet cloth, much nicer smelling than him. It took away the sweat and the tears and last night’s supper. It cooled him,  soothed him, lulled him. He closed his eyes. Something shifted beside him. He didn’t see it, didn’t hear it, but he could feel it. Lothar had brought his bedroll closer. Brilliant blue eyes were watching him. Soothing him. A gentle voice lulled him to sleep. What was he saying? Khadgar couldn’t quite work it out. A warm hand closed over his own. He was safe. He could sleep now. He was safe.


End file.
